ly,
the remainder of the goods were stored in the attic, and the farm was
rented until the first of May--the house being close to the village, it
made a not undesirable winter residence. A longer lease than this
Caleb would not grant, in spite of his wife's remonstrances.

"Just as if we would want to come back by May, Caleb!" she scoffed.
"Why, by that time we shall be real city folks, and you 'll be a
partner in the business, maybe."

"Hm-m,--maybe," echoed Caleb imperturbably; "but--we'll see when May
comes."

"Cousin John" in Boston had received the news of their intended coming
with cordial interest, and had already procured for them a six-room
apartment in Roxbury; and it was in his thriving market and grocery
store on Warren Avenue that Caleb was to have a position as clerk. The
wages, at first, were not large--Cousin John explained when he
good-naturedly ran up to the farm to make arrangements--but the figures
looked fabulous to Sarah until John told her that they must pay
twenty-five dollars every month for their flat.

"Twenty-five dollars, and not even a spare room!" she gasped. "Why,
John, it's too nice--it must be. We did n't want such a fancy one."

"Oh, 't is n't fancy," laughed the man, "not a bit! It's clean and
neat and on a respectable street. Land costs something down there, you
know. You have to pay something for rent. Why, I pay fifty, myself."

"Oh, oh!" moaned Sarah. Then she threw back her head with an assumed
courage. "Never mind, I 'll just have to change my plans a bit. I did
n't intend to keep anything, but I can have just a few hens and a cow
as well as not, and that will help some. Like enough I can sell a
little butter and what eggs I don't use, too, and--" a long, hearty
laugh interrupted her.

"Oh, Cousin Sarah, Cousin Sarah!" choked John, as soon as he could find
his voice.

"Well," said Mrs. Dalton, with some dignity, "I'm waiting."

Cousin John pulled his face into shape and steadied his voice.

"Sarah, your flat is up three flights, and has n't even a back piazza.
Where are you going to keep hens and cows?"

Mrs. Dalton's jaw fell.

"Three flights!" she gasped.

He nodded.

"And is n't there a yard, or--or anything?"

"Not that belongs to you--except the fire escape and a place on the
roof to dry your clothes." His lips were twitching, as Mrs. Dalton was
not slow to see.

"Never mind," she retorted airily. "I did n't want them, anyhow, and,
after